


small town saturday night

by assassinactual



Series: endlessly upward [6]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinactual/pseuds/assassinactual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Root and Shaw are stranded, the Machine is a troll, and Shaw saves the day by eating.</p><p>Set in my Samaritan is defeated and everyone is alive and happy and okay universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I let you drive _once_ and we end up here?” Shaw complains to Root, gesturing around the abandoned lot they’re stranded in. They’re out in the open, just off the highway in midst of wide open fields, nearly half a mile from the next town. The only cover in sight is a boarded up gas station, and a single dried-up looking tree. The afternoon sun is so hot that Shaw’s already sweating only a few minutes after stepping out of the truck.

“I asked Her at the last town and She said we had enough gas,” Root says.

“Oh yeah? What’s She saying now?” Shaw says petulantly. She scuffs her boot on the ground, and watches the cloud of dust that creates drift away in the wind.

“That – wait, what?” Hearing Root’s voice suddenly take on a tone of alarm snaps Shaw’s attention to her. “Why? You don’t – are you there? Can you hear me?”

Shaw walks around to the driver’s side of the truck where Root is standing. “Root?” She ignores Shaw in favour of pulling out her phone and frantically tapping on it. Shaw closes the little space remaining between them. She grabs Root’s arm, just gently putting a bit of pressure on her bicep to get her attention. “Hey.” Root makes a final couple keystrokes before looking at Shaw. Her worried and confused look softens just a tiny bit when she notices Shaw’s closeness.

“She said She’s going down for maintenance.”

Shaw might not be an expert, but she distinctly recalls Root explaining how they helped the Machine distribute Her operations out to various datacenters after Samaritan was wiped out. And how that made it nearly impossible to take Her down. “She doesn’t do that.”

“No.”

“Is there something wrong with Her? Samaritan didn’t give her some kind of time-delayed virus?”

Root shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think She did this on purpose.”

“Like the camping trip.” They spent a week in the wilderness watching another couple, only to stop them from pushing each other off a cliff then hand them over to the local police. Then the Machine told them that driving the couple thousand miles across the country back to New York would be just a great idea.

“There was an actual number,” Root says reasonably.

“Which could’ve easily been handled in five minutes by people that weren’t us.” Root just shrugs. With Fusco on vacation with his son, and John and Harold on a flight to Sydney to spy on an AI development conference, they’re unlikely to get any backup. It’s up to the two of them to get themselves out of whatever the Machine got them into. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find a functioning gas station there,” Shaw says, jerking her thumb towards the town down the road.

 

“I tried every one of our cards,” Root says, dropping down beside Shaw on the bench in front of the town’s only gas station. “Nothing. She froze all of our accounts. And you just spent the last of our cash on junk food.”

“I was hungry,” Shaw says unapologetically. She pauses tearing open a bag of chips to offer the Twizzlers to Root. She takes one, and glumly pulls a bit off with her teeth.

“Come on,” Shaw says, gently kicking Root’s leg. “We’ll find some asshole we can _borrow_ a few bucks from then get out of here.”

Root rolls the rest of the Twizzler up and shoves it in her mouth. She chews thoughtfully, waiting until she’s done to speak. “I don’t know. I’d feel kinda bad doing that. I promised Harry I wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t.”

Shaw looks at her in disbelief, then accepts this and shakes her a head.

“So… hack an ATM?”

Shaw follows Root’s gaze as she surveys their surroundings. To their left, a gravel road, and a wheat field beyond that. To their right, the town’s main street. A single block’s worth of businesses, then a church and a library before it turns into a tree lined residential street.

“Tempting, but I don’t think they have one. She’d probably block us anyway. I just want to know why She seems so determined to keep us here.”

“Some kind of test?” Shaw offers. She’s not all that concerned with their predicament. A little annoyed, perhaps. But the Machine has usually had a good reason for Her bizarre antics. Shaw’s learned to just go with the flow. “Prove we’re good guys or some shit?”

“That doesn’t seem like her.”

“Whatever,” Shaw says, shrugging. She finishes her chips, then walks over to the nearby trash can to throw out the bag. “Let’s take a look around. Maybe we’ll find someone who needs shooting.”

Shaw offers Root her hand and pulls her to her feet. Root doesn’t let go once she’s standing. “No,” Shaw says, letting her hand go limp in Root’s grasp. Root releases it, and Shaw starts out towards the street. She’s only gone a few steps when Root catches up and slips her hand into Shaw’s back pocket.

 

They don’t run into any murderers, or criminals of any kind, on their short tour of the town. In fact, everyone they meet is almost creepily nice. The only thing of interest they find is the flyer Root is waving in Shaw’s face.

“No way, Root.”

“But _Sameen_ ,” Root whines.

“This is the worst idea you’ve had all week.”

“You say that about all my ideas.”

“Not the ones that involve food or sex,” Shaw points out.

“Well this definitely involves food, and could involve sex if you’re lucky,” Root says. Shaw suspects there will be sex whether she goes along with Root’s idea or not.

“Can’t we just ask someone for help?” Root recoils in horror. “You’re right, that’s a terrible idea,” Shaw admits quickly. She tries vainly to come up with an alternative, but Root staring at her and pouting distracts her. “Okay, fine.”

 

The town fair grounds aren’t hard to find. Most of the sparse traffic is heading that way.

They thread their way through a surprisingly large crowd. Past children’s rides, vendors selling local crafts, and an assortment of probably rigged games. Past the stage where country band is playing, and finally to a booth beside it with a banner proclaiming “Hotdog Eating Contest - $500 Grand Prize.”

Shaw sighs, resigned to her fate. Root links their arms and pulls Shaw along towards the booth. “Come on sweetie, let’s get you signed up.”

“If I puke, it’s going on you.” Shaw turns to face Root as she says this, to fully appreciate the way her face twists in disgust.

“That’s gross.”

 

Shaw hangs back a bit while Root is filling out the entry form. This is her stupid idea, she can handle the paperwork.

She’s handing the form over to the overly cheery woman at the booth when a large man in a plaid shirt and a John Deere cap approaches her. She can’t hear them over the noise, but can see Root shake her head and gesture toward the crowd Shaw is hiding amongst. While he’s talking, Root surreptitiously checks out the crowd, and spots Shaw. Root jerks her head subtly, and makes a face which Shaw interprets as ‘ _get your fantastic ass over here or you’re not getting laid for a week._ ’ Not that Root ever successfully follows through on that sort of threat, but she will get annoyingly pouty and mopey for a few days. So Shaw sighs, shakes her head, and pushes her way through the crowd.

“Oh, there she is now!” Root says as she approaches them. Shaw resists the urge to stab someone and plasters her best dealing-with-people smile on her face. “Sameen, this is Jimbo, the reigning champion.” Root seems to have slipped into speaking with a more pronounced drawl, which Shaw finds oddly attractive.

Jimbo sizes Shaw up, and scoffs. “You? The way your girlfriend was talkin’ I thought I’d have some real competition.”

“Oh, I’ll give you competition,” Shaw snarls at him through gritted teeth. He chuckles, then turns away to talk to another contestant.

Root elbows her in the side, hard. “Save it for the contest, sweetie.”

 

Jimbo smirks at Shaw smugly while they’re taking their places on the stage. The glare she gives him in return makes him flinch and shift his chair away from her.

As she’s looking out over the crowd waiting to begin, Shaw suddenly realizes that not only will she have to stuff her face with dozens of flavourless, possibly bacteria-laden hotdogs, she’ll have to do it in front of a huge audience. Root watching her eat is one thing. It’s Root. It’s almost endearing, in her weird way. This is making a spectacle of herself in front of a bunch of yokels.

Then she spots Root. Right in the front row, giving Shaw a broad smile and flashing her a thumbs up. Shaw chooses to focus on her, and the way she leans in and her eyes glaze over dreamily as Shaw shoves the first hotdog in her mouth.

 

Shaw does her best to hide the discomfort caused by the obscene (even for her) amount of low-grade processed meat she just consumed. She’s doing pretty good compared to Jimbo, at least. He’s slumped over in his chair, groaning. The first place ribbon stuck on her shirt and the stack of cash Root’s counting beside her help. She feels even better after returning his smug smirk from before.

Their first stop after leaving the stage is at a food stall where Root buys herself a huge ball of cotton candy. Shaw declines at first when Root offers her some. They sit down at a nearby picnic table, and for once Shaw is the one watching Root eat.

Suddenly, Root stands up and shoves her cotton candy into Shaw’s hands. She runs off, belatedly calling “Wait here!” over her shoulder as she goes. Shaw bides her time taking little bites of Root’s cotton candy. She may have just eaten approximately her own weight in hotdogs, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to pass up a sugary treat.

She reappears minutes later, wearing a cap with a rainbow coloured shape of Texas on it, and a stupid grin on her face. Distracted by this, Shaw fails to notice Root’s hand concealed behind her back.

“I know you missed Bear, so I got you this.” She pulls her hidden hand out, revealing a stuffed toy dog that actually is reasonably close to Bear’s colouring. Shaw recalls seeing similar stuffed toys as prizes at some kind of throwing game they passed earlier.

Shaw rolls her eyes, but she still passes Root’s cotton candy back her and snatches the dog from her hand.

Root’s about to say something, but then her eyes glaze over and go unfocused in a familiar way. A few moments later, she directs her attention back to Shaw.

“She’s talking to you again?” Shaw asks.

Root nods. “She said that She thought we deserved some time off, with how busy we’ve been recently. And that She may have miscalculated and – um – well, the gas station might be out of gas.”

 

Later in the evening, the two of them are laying side by side on their truck’s hood.

Shaw allowed Root to drag her around the fair for about an hour after the Machine called. Then they picked up some supplies at the town’s tiny grocery store before walking back out to their truck as the sun was setting.

Root’s watching the stars appear one by one overhead, while Shaw watches Root. She’s noticed Root becoming a bit uncomfortable, or uncharacteristically quiet at times throughout the day. They’re both out of their element a bit, but it seems like something more is going on with her.

“I thought you’d like it here,” Shaw says. “Fewer people to put up with.”

“I feel a bit exposed here,” Root admits. “It’s – comforting, I suppose – knowing I can slip into another identity and just vanish amidst everyone. Can’t really do that here.” She smirks, but it drops quickly. “It reminds of Bishop, a bit,” she says quietly.

“Hey,” Shaw says, nudging her shoulder, attempting to draw her out of her melancholy mood. Root slowly redirects her attention from the stars to Shaw. “Wanna fuck me on the hood this truck?”

“So romantic,” Root drawls sarcastically.

Shaw shrugs, shifts away from her a little. Then, with a flash of movement Shaw can barely track and a thud of her knees on metal, Root’s above her. One hand playing with the button of Shaw’s jeans, the other sliding up to her neck. Root leans down close to Shaw, her breathing heavy and breath hot next to Shaw’s ear as she says “I didn’t say no.”

 

Eventually, the hood becomes uncomfortable. It’s a warm night, with not a cloud nor any bugs in sight, so they don’t bother with their tent. They just zip their sleeping bags together into one then lay it on top of some blankets in the bed of the truck. They crawl into the joined sleeping bag together. After a bit of shifting around to get comfortable, Shaw ends up laying on her back with Root curled against her left side and the little stuffed Bear tucked under right arm.

They’re both physically exhausted, though thanks to napping while Root drove earlier Shaw isn’t quite ready to sleep yet. She lays on her back, staring up at the stars. It’s a sight she rarely sees spending most of her time in the city, and one she never especially cared for. But she’s found that she’s become used to it over the last week.

“You realize the Machine basically sent us on a cliché small town date, right?” Shaw says, voicing something she’s been thinking most of the evening. She speaks softly, to not disturb Root in case she’s asleep.

“I s’pose,” Root says almost a full minute later. Her sleepy voice is muffled by her face being snuggled up against Shaw’s shoulder. “Was still nice. Got to spend the day with you.”

Shaw will admit, to herself at least, that it wasn’t so bad. But that won’t stop her from trying to figure out how to kick the Machine’s meddling ass when she gets back to the city.


	2. hold on to your love in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later on the same night of the first part.

They wake up twice through the night.

 

The first time, Root jolts awake. For a second, she’s lost.

Until Sameen places her hand, warm and solid, on her shoulder. She covers it with her own hand, lacing their fingers together. Root realizes she woke because Sameen has slipped out of her arms. She’s sitting up, looking off into the distance.

“’S okay,” Sameen says, her voicer deeper than usual and a little scratchy, “it’s not coming this way.” She’ confused again briefly, until she sits up too. Propped up on her elbows, she follows Sameen’s gaze past the back of the truck out into the night.

She blinks a few times to clear her eyes, then stares blankly out into the dark as she wakes up a bit more and processes what she’s seeing.

On the horizon to the west, the starry deep blue of the midnight sky is interrupted by inky blotches of storm clouds. Lit in patches by irregularly flickering lightning. Or a brief bolt snaking between clouds to briefly throw their towering shapes into relief before sinking back into indistinct darkness.

Sameen’s words fully register now. Root can tell the storm is a hundred miles or more away. She can tell by the crystal-clear sky above them, the absolute utter calm, and the smell of the warm summer air that the storm is no threat to them.

She takes a look around. This far out of town, and without any lights of their own, Root’s eyes are well adjusted to the dark. In this dark, she can see even the faint light the distant lightning casts against the starlit fields around them. Above, the clear sky is so vast and open that she can almost lose herself in it. From the pitch black of the southern sky to the royal blue along the northern horizon, it seems so close she could touch it, but also unfathomably infinite.

Root sits up fully to lean on Sameen. She wraps her arms around her from behind and rests her head on Sameen’s shoulder. They both sit there, silently watching the storm.

“I wish You could see this like I can.”

She feels Sameen shift, probably looking at Root, confused. Then her hand comes up, and she traces the line of the scar behind Root’s ear. “Tell Her. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Root lets out a little huff that’s almost a chuckle. Turns her head to place a quick kiss against Sameen’s neck. Then she does. Murmuring against Sameen’s shoulder, trying to put it into words. To explain everything she sees and hears and feels to the Machine, in a way She can fully understand.

 

Her memory becomes fuzzy and indistinct after that. Sameen must lay her back down in the sleeping bag, because that’s where she wakes. This time with Sameen wrapped around her from behind, and the little stuffed Bear between them.

She’s the first to wake this time. The warm night has given way to a slightly uncomfortable predawn chill. The stars are still out overhead, but the deepness of the night is already giving way to a faintly unreal blue-grey glow.

Root shifts, rousing Sameen. “Mhmmm?”

“Can you reach the spare blanket?”

Sameen fumbles around on her side briefly. Between the two of the them, they manage to get the blanket unfolded and stuffed down around themselves without moving too much. Settled, they pull the top of the sleeping bag up higher and cuddle even closer to share warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this idea ages ago when in a similar situation to this but never got around to actually writing it because it wasn't really going anywhere. But whatever, it's my birthday and I wanted soft Shoot, so.


	3. if you’re gonna play with a texan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wacky hijinks ft. cowboy Root.

Driving east, the sun on the passenger side keeps Root warm even with the air conditioning running. Not uncomfortably so, just enough that she easily falls in and out of sleep throughout the morning. Head propped against the window, Texas cap pulled low over her eyes, lulled by the vibration and the sparse scenery. Sometimes woken by a bump or by a message from the Machine. Root will briefly chat with Her, or Shaw, have a snack, check their progress, stare out the window.

She’d really rather be taking the train for this kind of trip, but if she has to do this, Sameen is the ideal partner. It’s very easy for them to simply exist together. To share space in silence that’s never uncomfortable, each doing her own thing.

 

One of the Machine’s messages leaves her frowning at her phone. Shaw still has her eyes on the road, but she seems to sense something is off.

“What’s Siri want now?”

“She wants us to make a detour.” Shaw’s already slowing and pulling over.

“A number?”

“I’m not sure.” She holds the phone out once they’ve stopped, and Shaw takes it. “It’s not too far.”

“A rodeo?” Shaw asks, almost disbelievingly. She hands the phone back to Root though, and pulls back out onto the highway.

“Apparently,” Root says, reading further information on her phone, “I’ve been entered in the mounted shooting competition.”

 

 No sooner are they parked at the rodeo grounds than a delivery van is pulling up beside them. A confused woman in an APS uniform hops out. She repeatedly looks back and forth from them to her phone before approaching.

“I have a package for a – Root Thornhill?”

Root ignores Shaw’s scowl. “That’d be me!”

“Thank god. Sign here,” the delivery woman says, handing Root a clipboard. “That package jut showed up at the depot this morning, with instructions to deliver it here. I thought it was some kind of prank.”

Somewhat impressed by the Machine’s craftiness and quirky methods, Root shoots a quick sort-of wink at Shaw. Shaw shakes her head and rolls her eyes at them. And it is at _them_ , Root knows, since the eye roll is directed more at the phone in Shaw’s hand than at her.

 

After opening the package to find documents, instructions, and clothing which Root insisted Shaw wasn’t allowed to peek at, they head into the main building. Once inside, they part ways. Shaw to check Root in for the competition and Root to change into her new outfit.

Shaw’s task doesn’t take her long. She quickly becomes bored with nothing to do. She’s in the middle of sending a text to Root to ask where she is when a familiar voice with a much more pronounced twang calls out behind her.

“Hey there, darlin.”

Shaw takes a moment to roll her eyes before turning around. Which turns out to be a good idea, because once she sees Root, she just kind of _stops_.

She expected this: the cowboy outfit, the boots, the chaps, the revolvers. What she didn’t expect was how good it looks on Root. The plaid shirt open just a bit too far, the neckerchief, the obnoxious cocky smirk as she takes a step closer to Shaw. Her hair’s pulled back now but she’s still wearing the rainbow Texas cap, and somehow even that looks good despite clashing horribly.  

Root comes up well inside Shaw’s space before stopping. She adopts a relaxed stance, hooking her thumbs behind her wide leather belt, drawing attention to the buckle. It’s a gaudy, oversized thing. Polished silvery finish, a floral pattern engraved in it, and gold letters R and S, with a little gold heart between them.

Shaw stares. And stares. Maybe gulps a little, and takes a deep breath. Definitely doesn’t have any _thoughts_ about what she’d like to do to Root’s outfit. Or of what she’d like Root to do to her in that outfit. None at all.

“Are you from Tennessee?” Root begins, and _oh no._ This is not going to work on her. It is not. “’Cause you’re the only ten I see.”

It’s working. She can’t even deflect or come up with something, any sort of comeback at all. She’s so overwhelmed by Root’s obnoxious sexiness that she doesn’t even notice Root taking the cap off until she's placing it on Shaw’s head.

Snapping herself out of it, she sees Root pull a cowboy hat from somewhere and put it on.

“How do I look?” she asks, as if she doesn’t already know.

“You know you’re fucking hot,” Shaw says. “Now go – “ Shaw waves vaguely, still not really sure what they’re meant to be doing here “- do whatever before I start ripping this ridiculous get-up off you.”

Root tries to contain herself. Does a pretty good job, really. But the widening of her eyes and the way she licks her lips betray what she’s thinking.

The moment passes quickly, Root quickly composing herself. She cocks her head to the side like she’s listening to the Machine. Then she pats Shaw on the shoulder. “You just wait right here sweetie, I won’t be a minute.”

Shaw belatedly notices a growing commotion in the direction Root had disappeared in earlier. Someone shoves a man dressed in cowboy gear similar to Root’s. The cowboy falls, and as he’s going down the assailant grabs one of his pistols. He points the gun somewhat sloppily, yanks on the trigger, and – nothing.

Root reappears, the crowd seeming to part around her. She’s standing in classic gunfighter stance, right hand hovering near her hip. “Single action, jackass,” she quips. Then with speed that still surprises Shaw, she draws her gun. Her left hand comes across her body to slap the hammer back, and she fires from the hip in a way that would make any old movie cowboy proud.

The discharge of the black powder filled blank isn’t as sharp or loud as their usual weapons. But at the range Root is from the attempted murderer, the spray of sparks and flame is enough to scorch him and force him to drop the stolen gun.

Shaw half expects Root to blow the smoke away from the muzzle of her gun. Instead, she casually holsters it, winks at Shaw over her shoulder, and tips her hat and the man she just saved.

 

“Did you really need all this,” Shaw says, gesturing at Root’s outfit as they’re getting settled back in the truck, “if all you had to do was shoot the guy?”

Root gives her that obnoxiously hot cocky smirk again. “This,” Root says, trailing a hand over her chest, “was all for you, baby. She thought you’d appreciate it. She also thought we’d be, um, tired, and booked a hotel for us. Made us dinner reservations, too.”

Shaw looks Root up and down. Slowly, deliberately checking her out. She ends up locking eyes with Root, staring at her for several long seconds.

“The food can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I only meant to write the previous chapter. The first couple paragraphs of this were supposed to be a tag on the end of that, then the rest just happened.


End file.
